Of Independence and Dependence
by The Protagonist
Summary: A young girl makes a decision about her own future based on her mother's present.


I hear my parents arguing as I wake up in my bed. _What's it about this time, _I think to myself as I know it is the same old argument: Daddy thinks Mom should stop working as an English teacher at the public high school and Mom thinks Daddy should get on with the times, namely the Women's Lib movement. I can't believe this. Night after night, I'm losing sleep. And it doesn't help any that my younger sisters barrel into my room because it's farther from Mom and Daddy's room than mine, so they can't hear the arguing. I expect them to stumble into my room in a few minutes… One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi…

My younger sister trudges into my room, comforter and pillow in hand. My youngest sister follows suit, with a crossword puzzle book, afghan blanket and pillow.

"What do you want?" I yawn, as I know the obvious answer. My younger sister scowls at me and my second youngest sister retains a blank expression.

"Refuge." Explains my second youngest sister and sets down her belongings. My younger sister does the same. I could kill Mom and Daddy for this. Their arguing has caused me the loss of my room. This sucks.

At school, I endure the typical torture from Sister Agnes, the math teacher. She always picks on the boys when she asks a question and hardly ever the girls. I think she's anti-feminist like Daddy. Sister Martha is different. She always treats the girls better. I think she is a feminist. I don't know what my Mom is. I think she is something in-between. I also get another day of preference from most teachers and shunning from a lot of my classmates. This world sure is weird, but yet it is always changing like the expanding universe.

After school, I question my friend, Jill about feminism and hippies and stuff like that. Jill does not respond except for "uh-huh" and keeps glancing at Paul Roberts, a boy in our year, the seventh grade.

When I arrive at home, the house is a mess. That is unlike Mom, for even though she works, she always keeps the house clean. (She must be a Super-person or something)

"Mom?" I call out, seeking the always present and perfect mother who's raised my sisters and me. I hear no response so I try again. No response once more. _This isn't right, _I think. _She's got to be here. She's got to._

I look in my mother and father's bedroom, which is a bad thing to do, I know, but have I any other choice?

I look around the entire house and I sigh. Then I realize there is one place I haven't looked. The bathroom.

I go in there and there is my mother. She is sitting on the toilet, seat down and looks as if she has been crying. Her blouse is rumpled and so is her hair. She does not look anything like my perfect mother. She looks _real_…

"Mom what's the matter?" I ask. I feel concern and nothing feels right.

My mother shifts her eyes from the yellow tile on the bathroom floor to me. They are red and with deep bags. _She must have been losing sleep, too,_ I think. _Well, duh! _She looks at me and then speaks. "I've quit my job. For daddy."

"Why?" I ask, with the answer already supplied in my mind.

"To save my marriage." Tears form behind her eyes, which I suspect has happened many times before I arrived home.

For the first time in my life, I see my mother for what she really is: not Super-mother or wife of the year. No, not that. She is a coward. My mother is a coward. If she wasn't she wouldn't have quit the career that had become her passion. She wanted to _depend_ on Daddy, who was always on business trips. 

My mother disgusts me, wanting to depend on a man. As I turn on my heel, the image of her crying on the toilet is implanted in my mind, I make a promise to myself. Never will I, Helen Barksdale depend on a man for _anything_ in life. I think I shall go study now and decide if I should be a doctor or a lawyer when I grow up. I can already hear my younger sister, Rita, laughing at me while she plays "House" with her baby dolls. The future looks so bright. I shall be independent when I am grown up. I like the sound of that…

Notes: I know that I am working on Not Another Daria Parody!, but this idea jumped into my head to show how Helen got to be the independent workaholic she is today and why maybe Mrs. Barksdale would favor Rita (i.e.; Rita is able to want to depend on people and conform, Helen isn't). Also writing a prose story is a lot easier and more fun to write than script form. That was a good thing to learn. To conclude, this is an idea that drove me crazy and had to be written, so please review.

Disclaimers: MTV, Noggin/The-N, and Viacom International own Daria. Actually, technically, I think those are all one and the same. Oh well. The characters and places I use in this fanfic belong to them, not me and I am writing this fanfic for personal amusement, definitely not profit.


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